"Koldyeze is not why you're here," Pastour said flatly.
"No. That's only part of it."
Sten slid off his perch and started pacing up and down the aisle, casually peering at the plants in their hydroponic trays. "The Emperor is concerned about what's going to happen to you people next. Now that Fehrle is dead. Who's going to take over? Who will he have to deal with?"
"I imagine he would be," Pastour said, not bothering to hide his sarcasm. "I suppose he thinks we're just going to roll over and play dead. Like those old livies. The warrior chieftain is killed. The tribe loses its heart to fight. Another war won and over."
"If you think that," Sten said, "then you really don't know my boss. I imagine what's really on his mind is how many more of you he'll have to kill before you people finally realize you've lost.
"You do know you've lost, don't you?"
The question caught Pastour by surprise—mainly because he had been dodging it in his own mind for some time. And now he had to answer it. It was as if a great black storm cloud had been ripped open and he was standing under its emotional deluge. Defeat. Surrender. Humiliation. But, yes. They had lost. It was over, but there was nothing Pastour could do to stop the insanity. He could not bring himself to speak and only nodded.
"Then all you can do now is fight for what happens after the surrender," Sten said. "Peace with honor and all that diplomatic double-talk. What your people need very badly is a true leader who can deal with the Emperor and still guard the honor of the Tahn."
"And the Emperor thinks that person is me? Not a chance. I haven't the votes—assuming I was willing, of course."
"Assuming you were willing," Sten agreed. Both men realized that Pastour had just stepped over the line with that hedging phrase.
"Here's how the Emperor sees it," Sten continued. "The only clear leader anyone can hang a reputation on is Lady Atago. But she has too many enemies on the council to win the vote.
"Second is for there to be some kind of patched-together leadership group of compromise candidates. Say, Atago and one each from the major factions. I imagine your name would be on any such list."
Pastour knew it would. "And third?"
"There is no third," Sten said. "Only those two choices. And frankly, the way I personally see it, nothing ever came of group leadership. It tends to lead to costly blunders. No one is ever willing to take the blame, so nothing is ever done. Or you end up with political civil war, with no one in charge."
"I agree," Pastour said.
"Then the only logical choice," Sten said, "is Lady Atago."
Pastour could not believe what he was hearing. Sten was right, of course, but why would the Emperor back someone who had to be his greatest and most fervent enemy among the Tahn? Lady Atago was so single-minded that... And then he got it. That was just the quality—or weakness, depending on one's point of view—the Emperor needed.
It was like isolating a cancer that then could be simply and easily removed. Atago would lead the Tahn to final defeat. Someone else would hand over the sword. And the Eternal Emperor was betting that someone else would be Pastour.
"He must understand that I am no traitor," Pastour insisted, striking the bargain. "You must impress that on him."
"I will," Sten promised.
Then he turned away, moving toward the shadows. But just before he ducked out of sight, Sten turned back.
"Oh, I almost forgot. How's your health?"
"Excellent," Pastour said, wondering what the clot Sten was talking about.
"I wouldn't be too sure of that," Sten said. "If I were you, after the vote, I'd develop something lingering and nasty enough to warrant a long, well-deserved rest. Out of the line of fire."
Pastour had still been reacting to that mysterious bit of advice when he had realized that Sten was gone.
The elder secretary had finished reading and was calling for the first order of business. Atago and Wichman were glaring around at the other members of the council, sure they had a bitter fight on their hands. Pastour knew that all the private overtures they had made had been rebuffed and that they were resigned to a rare around-the-table battle. Pastour had carefully kept his people quietly neutral. The word was that they would vote for whoever the clear winner was. But there could be no clear winner. As soon as Atago lost the vote, the troika proposal would carry the day.
At least that was the conventional wisdom of the bean counters. The count began on Atago's side of the table. It would move through Pastour and his group, then the troika faction. The first nine "affirms" went swiftly. Then it was time for Pastour's vote.
"Abstain," the elder secretary said automatically. "Next?"
"Excuse me," Pastour said. "I haven't spoken yet."
The elder secretary peered at him, wondering what was going on.
"I don't want to abstain," Pastour said. "I want to vote affirmative."
His words were met by instant shock—and then excitement, as everyone realized what had just happened. There was a babble of voices and a plea for order, and then the vote flashed the rest of the way around the table.
In a moment it was unanimous, and Lady Atago was affirmed as the new leader of the Tahn High Council. The victory came so swiftly and so surprisingly that the gloom dropped from everyone's shoulders. Fehrle was forgotten, and the council members were pounding each other on the shoulders and generally congratulating themselves for their political wisdom.
They had a leader. It was time to face the enemy again.
"One question, my lady," one member of the council broke in. "The Imperial news reports are filled with stories about Imperial Fleet Marshal Ian Mahoney. He's sworn to return to the Fringe Worlds. Retake Cavite. How do you plan to deal with him? Or is it too early to say?"
Atago rose to her full, substantial height. Leadership glowed from her like a mythical aura—the stuff heroes were made of.
"I welcome him to try," Atago said. "I've beaten him before. Badly. In fact I took Cavite and the Fringe Worlds over his blasted and bleeding body. And this time I'd be glad to finish the job."
There were cheers all around, with one exception: Pastour. He poked up a finger for recognition. Atago could not help giving him a hate-edged glance. She did not know why he had backed her, but she expected that the price would be high. Then she caught herself, and the expression changed to a grim smile.
"Yes, Colonel?"
"Why is the Emperor putting so much importance on the Fringe Worlds? To me they no longer seem to be a particularly strategic target. Are we sure it's not just a ploy? To force us to commit?"
"Of course it is," Lady Atago said. "They're making it seem important so that any victory they win there will appear to take on greater meaning than it in fact would have."
"Then, if we react," Pastour said, "aren't we in danger of turning fiction into reality?"
"Only if they beat us," Atago said. "And I promise you that can't happen. I've proved it once, and I'll do it again. And we'll turn the Emperor's sword back on himself."
With that promise, Lady Atago double-thought her way into taking the Emperor's bait. And Pastour fully understood the Emperor's strategy. The only thing still puzzling him was Sten's odd comment about his health.
"Now for the next order of business," Lady Atago went on. "I have here a list. A very important list. It was stolen by our agents from Imperial files."
The council members looked at the printout she was holding in her hand. She was waving it at them like some kind of accusation.
"On it are seventy-two names. Tahn names. Traitors. And I ask full authority to purge them from our midst. And that's only the start. I want to follow their trail to wherever it might lead. No matter how high the traitor, no matter how..."